Work - it's overrated, and apparently, I can't handle it

Thankfully, I left THIS dress in my closet for my first day on the job. That could have been awkward.

On the day before Thanksgiving, I got a call from a school to teach another class. And feeling all powerful because I was about to run a triathlon, deliver meals to those less fortunate, and then cook a Thanksgiving feast, I said, "SURE, just let me get my cape and I'm totally on it." I've taught part-time for many years and now I'm teaching part-time times two. Part-time X 2 = Full-time, really.

After the turkey overdose, and although it was a healthy overdose, the triptophan still took over. So, after all that, it hit me: I went from 2 classes to FIVE! Shit!

I poured myself a stiff drink of coffee and honed in on my survival technique in a situation like this. I have super powers of making lists. So, I worked on lists and schedules for how I was going to get the kids to school, and get myself to class. I actually calculated I should wake up a half hour earlier to get all of my coffee drinking done before we left the house.

The biggest challenge was going to be getting dressed, face on, and hair done before taking the kids to school. I'm notorious for dropping off the kids, and then taking my sweet time to shower, and get my pretty on all by myself. That dream is gone.

Day One: I woke up early to shower, went downstairs to get the kids' breakfast ready, and then hustled back upstairs to straighten my straight hair, find something to wear that didn't need ironing, and get my face on - all while shouting orders at the kids. Well, I thought I was just doing a good job of keeping them in check with their own schedules, but Max came upstairs completely dressed, hair combed, teeth brushed, shoes AND socks on and said, "Why are you shouting and rushing us?" Show off.

He was nice about it, but I was so concerned with getting everyone in the car and ready for the day, I guess I was rushing them, when I should have just rushed me.

Somehow, we all got in the car, each with our backpacks and me with my last cup of coffee. I'm glad the kids got themselves together because after I dropped them off, I ended up getting to campus a few minutes late, had to hit a bathroom, fiddle with my belt and all these fancy clothes. By fancy- I mean not jeans and a tshirt. And it turns out, I was in the wrong building. Nice. I got to class, did introductions, went over the syllabus. And then I saw a kid in the class glance down and notice something on me. It was a half-second look, and I immediately knew what he was looking at. Oh crap, my zipper is down! I knew exactly what it was, those fancy pants with the double buttons AND a belt. How could i possibly remember ALL those fastenings!? I taught half the class with my zipper down! What do I do now? I did what every very professional college instructor does...I sat down behind the desk, and then pretended like I dropped something and instead of picking up said fictional item, I zipped my pants. Damnit!

I finished up the class and got in the car, and noticed my bra strap had snapped. Good googly! Thankfully, it probably wasn't that noticeable but I just taught with my zipper down and one bra cup not pushing anything up. The zipper was eye level. Uggh.

In college, I had a mean English professor. One day, she came to class with her shirt buttoned up all wrong. And we didn't like her. So, we didn't tell her. We just let her teach an entire hour of class with a gaping hole and could see her bra and her rolls. And now I'm that teacher. Isn't karma grand?

Can't wait for Day Two.
That's how I roll.